


Take Them Off

by chinesebakery



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fast Escalation, Fast learners, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Jemma has no chill, Kissing, Making up for lost time, People getting hot and bothered at work, Porn with Feelings, Prompt Fill, Sexy Times, Smut, going commando
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 11:07:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6751546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinesebakery/pseuds/chinesebakery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the workplace, Fitz and Simmons handle their budding relationship with professionalism and poise. Or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Them Off

**Author's Note:**

  * For [devoid69](https://archiveofourown.org/users/devoid69/gifts).



> For the Anon who asked for Fitzsimmons + “You heard me. Take it off.” and for devoid69 who seems to like reading about Fitz & Simmons getting their freak on? Eh, to each his own I guess ;D
> 
> Much thanks to Agentcalliope for the beta.

"Take off your knickers." His voice is low and his head bent close to Jemma's ear, in part to ensure no one can listen in, but mostly so he hears her breath catch in her throat.

"Fitz–"

"You heard me. Take 'em off," he commands.

" _We're not alone,_ " she points out in a high whisper. She means to sound outraged, he can tell, but he doesn't miss the way her pupils are dilating, or the flush that starts under her blouse, creeps up her neck and spreads to her cheeks in a matter of seconds.

"I don't care," he says, infusing his voice with all the power he can muster. 

***

It's new to him, still, all of it. 

Before her, before Bucharest, he hadn't lived anything of much significance in that department, other than the few meaningless snogs he scored out of pity or curiosity back at the Academy. Being the smartest in the room –or even the second smartest– really meant something there, and if he'd played his cards better, it could even have made up for his social ineptness. 

By the time they entered Sci-Ops, he had lost interest in trying to connect with anyone but Jemma. It took too much of an effort and never went quite right. Besides, he had other, more pressing interests, and his research kept him busy. Sex– one could take it or leave it, certainly? Any such impulse he had was swiftly repressed, as were the alarming bursts of  _ something _ he felt when he caught a glimpse of her he wasn't meant to see, or the crippling, maddening bitterness he felt when he knew she was with someone else.

But that was a long time ago and, clearly, things are different now.

***

Jemma excuses herself and saunters to the bathroom, her knee-length skirt swaying around her. When she comes back, the colors still high on her cheekbones, she brushes past him and slides her closed first in his lab coat pocket.

He waits until she's sitting at her desk again to stick his own hand in his pocket and feel the weightless bulk of her underwear. He looks straight at her across the lab bench as he rub the lacy texture between his fingers

"Everything alright, there, Doctor Fitz?" Jemma asks, a little too brightly.

He's  _ this _ close to tell her that, no, fuck it, they should go right away, the lab can wait, everything can wait, SHIELD will still be standing by the time they both come. He's useless anyway, he can't accomplish a thing when all he can think about is racing her to his room and waste some time with his face between her thighs.

"You could say that," he says, his voice breaking slightly before he clears his throat. 

He started this, after all, and doesn't want to be the first to break.

***

They've been making up for lost time, the years of confusion and frustration, all that pent-up  _ want _ he's been carrying around forever. But it's not going the way he expected at all. He supposed sex was something you  _ did _ before resuming the normal course of your life, like a hobby, maybe.

But it's the first thing that crosses his mind when he wakes up in the morning with her ass nestled against his groin and it doesn't leave him for the entire day, not really. If their eyes meet for more than an instant, if she touches him or smiles to him or unwittingly shows the slightest inch of skin, his heartbeat picks up as his blood begins pooling down. They're having sex all the time, and he's never felt more sexually frustrated in his life.

He's considered asking her if it always feels this way –obsessing, all-encompassing– but he doesn't know how and he's not sure he would want to know if it was, anyway.

She's right there with him, though, always eager and ready, happy to play along his every experiment. The knowledge that she wants him as much as he wants her –something he's gradually coming to believe– is an unforeseen, continuous delight.

***

The game he started is a double edged knife and Fitz has trouble focusing all afternoon. His data analysis is all skewed and he messes up the parameters of the same calculation twice, which Jemma seems to find amusing, although he hasn't missed that several of her samples ended up in the trash. He doesn't say a thing, though, and saves it for later.

He's fairly certain all the lab technicians know what's been going on, but after everything they've been through, he expects there are worse hardships than your subordinates finding out you're sexually active. 

They're not official, and no one has asked them a thing but he doubts that the fact her bed hasn't been slept in in weeks has gone completely unnoticed.

She's the one who'd rather keep it between them for now; he doesn't feel strongly one way or another, as long as they're in agreement not to lie about it. Perhaps he would have been embarrassed before, but now? Yes, he and Simmons have been going at it –and damn does he wish they were doing it  _ now– _ but to be honest, shame is about the last thing he could feel on the matter. 

***

The moment the door of his bedroom closes on them, at the end of an interminable afternoon, Fitz extracts the piece of black cloth from his jeans pocket, where he transferred it upon clocking out.

"Aren't you missing something, Doctor Simmons?" Fitz asks conversationally, dangling her panties in front of her.

"Oh, you found them," Jemma says with a smile that eats up her whole face. "How could I  _ possibly _ thank you?"

She plasters herself on him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and dives straight into the kind of deep, open mouth kisses that send all his blood coursing straight to his groin. 

"I've been thinking about this all afternoon," she says, her tone urgent, and he wordlessly concurs, walking her a little awkwardly toward the bed without breaking their breathless kissing. When his knees hit the mattress, he sits down and takes her with him until she's lying halfway on top of him, her curves weighting pleasantly over him. It isn't until his hands start roaming down her back and over her ass that he  _ remembers _ and moans into her mouth.

"Fuck," he grits out, and pulls her skirt up so he can better run his hands up her bare legs until it reaches the apex of her thighs and this time, it's her turn to moan. She's wet and burning when he runs his fingers along her slit, and how wonderful is it that he feels  _ so much  _ everytime? They've done this dozens of times by now but that hasn't changed. Being with her this way overrides everything, it annuls the world outside for a while. He had no idea. Perhaps he should have looked into this whole sex business before.

"Are you still with me?" Jemma asks with a slight frown, running a finger along his jaw.

"Yeah, just thinking that…" He trails off, unable to think of a way to say it that doesn't sound entirely ridiculous.

"What?"

"Well," he sighs, resigning himself for the inevitable teasing to come, "this is more than I thought it would be. Better? I don't know–"

When she does laugh softly, it's with more happiness than mirth.

"I didn't know it could be this good, either," she beams, her eyes shiny and joyful, and his chest expands ten folds.

Fitz leans on an elbow and indulges in gawking at her for a moment. She's quite a sight, bared up to the waist, with her skirt bunched up at the hips and her conservative blouse still buttoned up to the top.

"Take off your shirt," he demands, and gives the fabric a tug.

"Again with the orders!" Jemma huffs exaggeratedly.

"...or don't," he shrugs, scooting down and pushing her thighs further open before settling between her legs. "I'll find something else to play with."

" _Fitz_ , I'm close already," she warns.

"Well I've been thinking about  _ this _ all afternoon, so…" Ignoring her protestations, he begins tormenting her with his tongue until her sighs turn to urgent moans and her fingers are clinging to his hair hard enough that it stings. 

"Your turn," she announces, still panting.

Sitting up, he takes her in, flushed and disheveled, and grins.


End file.
